


unreal

by Tumbelina



Category: Castle (TV) RPF
Genre: Always, F/M, Shameless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:24:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6031321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tumbelina/pseuds/Tumbelina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill from a kink meme, re: the end of Always. "It took them hours to film that scene."</p>
            </blockquote>





	unreal

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure fiction. It is not real, and it is not meant to be real.

Halfway through filming season one, Stana walked past his dressing room one evening and heard the door rattling unevenly in its frame. It took a few seconds, and the muffled moaning, for her to realize that Nathan was fucking someone on the other side of the door.   
  
She walked away quickly, her cheeks warm, trying not to listen to what sounded like a rough and enthusiastic finale.  
  
She never found out who it was.  
  


* * *

  
But she kept thinking about it.  
  
 _Keep it simmering_ , Marlowe told them. _Really make it sizzle_. Sexual tension. They went for it. She found herself staring at his mouth, smiling when Nathan told her how effective it was. He thought it was acting.   
  
And…it was. Sort of. But he was tall and broad-shouldered and had some inexplicable combination of nerdiness and physical presence and boyish charm and sex appeal that made no sense. He wasn’t her type. Not even close. She dated a different type. She wasn’t attracted to big, geeky, older men with blue eyes and video game obsessions.   
  
And yet, again and again, she kept having to look away from his mouth.  
  


* * *

  
Everyone knew it was coming. It wasn’t really a surprise when she turned the page in the script for _Always_ and finally saw the words _I just want you_.  
  


* * *

  
And then they were filming, and she knew it was bad.   
  
She thought it would be okay. Filming _Knockdown_ was fine; Nathan was a good kisser, and the whole scene was fraught with enough frantic, unsure energy to keep it from getting too dangerous. She was so used to teasing him these past few seasons, sending him arch looks that made his jaw drop, brushing her fingers across his. And she thought _He’s going to be a puddle again_.  
  
But then it was time to film _Always_ and suddenly they called _action_ and he was _touching_ her and he was _rough_ and this wasn’t Nathan, this dark-eyed, dangerous, sexy man who shoved her up against the door like he was going to tear off her clothes and fuck her right there in front of everyone. Her mouth went dry and she clutched desperately at his shoulders, gasping as his hips pressed into hers and heat flooded her body.  
  
The first time was bad enough.  
  
And then they kept shooting it again, different angles, different cameras, pulling off her jacket. But every time, her back hit the door and his mouth covered hers and she couldn’t help but arch into him with a gasp that really, really wasn’t acting.  
  


* * *

  
It took _hours_.  
  
By the time the final _cut_ was called, her skin was burning under her clothes and the damp, aching heat between her legs was so uncomfortable she had to keep herself from pressing her thighs together. She managed a smile for the crew, ran a hand through her limp, wet hair and ducked out, away from the set, away from her co-star and his smudged mouth.  
  
She couldn’t stop shaking. Her heart was pounding in her sternum. Her whole body was on edge, the thin, reedy edge of desire curling hot and slick under her skin. He had big hands. Big, strong hands. Long fingers.  
  
The hallway was deserted. For a second she turned towards her own room, meaning to finally change out of the still-damp costume she’d been stuck in all day. But she stopped.  
  
She slipped into his dressing room instead.

He wasn’t there – she’d seen him chatting with a few of the crew when she left – so she settled on his couch, drawing her knees up under herself. Her body was still buzzing with unresolved need, trembling with the torture of being pinned to the door over and over and _over_ but never getting further than desperate before suddenly the call _cut_ shattered the moment and she had to stop without any relief and start it all over again.  
  
A few minutes later the door opened again. Nathan stepped in, letting the door shut behind him. Only then did he see her.  
  
“Stana?”  
  
She opened her mouth, but she had no idea what to say. Her mind was swamped with _I just want you_ and the hot, desperate rush of pure want at the feel of his hands on her and the deep, ragged groans she’d heard the day she walked past his room and heard him pin some other woman up against a door and finish her off.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
She ignored his question, rising from the couch and swallowing hard. He was watching her. There was confusion on his face, but as she came closer, his eyes widened. Darkened. He understood. She bit her lip and his gaze fixed on her mouth, deep and longing and hungry.  
  
She meant to say something, explain why she was in his room, or at least offer some halfhearted comment and safely slip out.   
  
But then he took one step forward and they were on each other, all hands and tongues and hitching breath.  
  
She moaned into his mouth as he devoured her, arching into him as his hands slid over her back. It was wrong, it was all kinds of wrong, because he wasn’t the kind of guy she liked and they weren’t actually _together_ and it was supposed to be _fake_ –   
  
A deep groan rumbled through his chest and she shivered, her fingers tightening on his shoulders as a wave of hot desire washed through her body, the wet ache between her legs unbearable. She needed tactile sensation, pressure, anything, she just needed _relief_.  
  
“Nathan – ” she choked out, her voice breaking as he sank his teeth into her earlobe, laving over it with his tongue. “Nathan – ”  
  
“What?” he whispered, his breath hot on her neck. She bit her lip.  
  
“Push me up against the door.”  
  
He pulled back for a second, stared at her. She watched in fascination as his eyes went dark, the muscles in his throat working as he swallowed. He understood. He knew what she wanted.  
  
He kissed her again, his mouth hard, demanding, and then he was walking her backwards until her back hit the hard, unforgiving surface of the door, knocking the air out of her lungs. His thigh nudged her legs apart and she ground down against him, whimpering faintly at the delicious hot friction right where she needed it.   
  
“You like that.” he hissed. “You like it when I get rough, don’t you?”

She choked out something vaguely like _yes_ as he rocked his hips into hers, flooding her body with heat. He slid a hand under her waistband, slipping easily under the edge of her underwear. She gasped, hooking her leg over his as his fingers traced lightly over the damp silky fabric of her panties. Her hips bucked sharply, pressing harder into his hand.  
  
It was so fast, so rough, so desperate. He worked the heavy wet fabric of her jeans down her legs, yanked her panties down, undid his own pants, and then he was shoving her up against the door so hard and she took a shaky breath and then he was inside of her, hot and strong and so perfect. She clutched frantically at his hair, wound her legs around his waist, a high-pitched moan escaping her lips as the different angle drove him even deeper.  
  
“ _Shhhhhh_ ,” he hissed, covering her mouth with one hand as he thrust into her, slow and steady and _oh_ so _good_. She moaned into his hand, squeezing her thighs around his waist, pulling him deeper in. He growled darkly into her skin, his strokes getting faster, sloppy, involuntary, his hips jerking against hers. She bit her lip, her head falling back against the wall as her body tightened and curled around him, faster and faster and she couldn’t breathe.  
  
And then it all came loose, the orgasm rushing through her body white-hot. She choked out a rough cry against his hand, all the air leaving her lungs as he let out a deep, guttural noise and spilled inside her.  
  
She slumped against him dazedly, breathing hard as her feet hit the floor. Oh. They just –  
  
There was a long moment of silence as she sighed, felt his heart pounding under her hands. She just fucked her co-star. She just let him fuck her up against his dressing room door. What was she thi–  
  
But then his mouth was on hers again, gentler this time, a slow kiss that sent tingles through her fingers and toes and she opened her mouth under his and it was Nathan, the wrong man, the wrong time, the wrong place, but at this point, she didn’t care.  
  
And when he dragged her down onto the couch, peeled the rest of her clammy damp costume off her skin, and gripped her hips tightly as she arched and shuddered and came apart again against his chest, Stana decided maybe “wrong” wasn’t the word anymore.


End file.
